


Run

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Terminator Salvation (2009)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Battle Prompts: Smoke, Desert</p>
    </blockquote>





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> Battle Prompts: Smoke, Desert

Blair pulled on Marcus' arm and dragged him out into the desert as the surgical teams were getting ready. She couldn't let this happen, not without saying goodbye, not without getting one last chance at changing his mind. Maybe they could run far enough to find someone else willing to give themselves up. Maybe it could be someone else. It didn't have to be Marcus. She knew there was no point to changing his mind, it had been made up for quite some time, but she had to _try._ She had to make him _see._

But he didn't give her a chance to speak. When they were far enough into the desert that the camp was nothing more than a wisp of smoke in the distance, he turned and kissed her full on the mouth. It wasn't a goodbye kiss, like the one in front of everyone else. This was longing and frustration and desire, this was passion that no machine could ever reproduce.

There was no gentleness in their touches, in the way he slammed into her and grasped her hips. There was nothing sweet about the way she grabbed hold of his ass or kept her legs locked around his waist, nothing tender in the way she attacked his mouth or rolled him over onto his back and rode him hard.

The tenderness came afterward, when she was curled up against his warmth, that deceptive warmth, and had to hold back tears. Marcus cradled her face, fingers running over her skin. "He's needed more than I am."

Yes, but that didn't mean she couldn't resent his loss.

Marcus kissed her softly then, cupping her face in his hands, as if he could memorize her taste with that kiss. Blair held onto his shoulders, her tongue sliding into his mouth, and he slipped inside of her one last time. It was slow this time, hands on skin and not through clothes and armor. This time he worked her with his fingers as he kissed her, as he pressed his lips against her fevered flesh and willed her to remember him like _this,_ not like the mass of metal in the silo.

Blair didn't watch the surgery. When John was wheeled away, bandages wrapped tight across his chest, she didn't allow herself the luxury of tears.


End file.
